


little comforts

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caretaking, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Armitage Hux, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Kylo takes care of his sick, pregnant mate.





	little comforts

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluff to cleanse the palate. Wanted to write some mpreg Kylux in a modern setting and this is what fell out. Enjoy!

_Crackers, ginger ale, acetaminophen, tissues,_ Kylo repeats in his head, though he has it written down in his phone as well. He’s trying to map out the grocery store in his mind, to preemptively determine where everything is so he can get in and out as quickly as possible. He pulls his car into park and yanks up his hood to shield himself from the rain, getting out the driver’s side door once he stuffs a brightly-colored reusable bag into his jacket. It’s made of some kind of flimsy compostable material, and while Kylo is _pretty_ sure it’s not going to melt in something as common as rain, he’d rather not have Hux complaining that he ruined one of his favorite grocery bags.

He jogs across the parking lot, managing to dodge most of the puddles but soaking his tennis shoe on the last one, just as he ducks under the store’s awning. He frowns at the _squelch_ as he takes each step, realizing he’ll have to throw the unfortunate shoe into the dryer later, lest Hux complain about him tracking rainwater through the house.

He grabs a green plastic basket from beside the entrance, shuffling through the rest of the late-night, last-minute shoppers. They don’t have the exact brand of diet ginger ale Hux likes best in the large, one-liter bottles, so Kylo settles for a six pack of little cans rather than opting for the full sugar variant. He knows too much sweetness leaves Hux feeling a little queasy, and that’s the opposite of what he wants for his mate, especially given the circumstances.

Thankfully, the supermarket carries the type of crackers Hux had written down for him, the little, flake-like variety people liked to float in clam chowder. He’s been meaning to make soup lately, thanks to the weather, so Kylo grabs a couple cartons of chicken stock, noodles, and a bushel of celery as well. Hux may bitch at him later for digging into their grocery budget, but Kylo can’t imagine he’ll say no to a fresh bowl of home-made soup considering his condition.

Oddly, Hux has become a little _more_ pliable in areas thanks to the pregnancy. He’ll complain more about Kylo not using a cologne he likes or preparing breakfast in a way Hux has currently deemed untenable, than whether he spends over their monthly allotment, priorities shifted to immediate needs rather than long-term planning. Perhaps not the best change, considering how much preparation is needed for a child, much less _two_ , but thankfully Hux hasn’t gone over and _completely_ lost his meticulous edge, if his recent spate of baby-proofing is any indication. What’s more, they’re blessed with family on Kylo’s side that could be convinced to lend a hand should the couple ever find themselves in atrying spot. 

The tissues and painkillers are easy finds in the first aid and home care aisle, and soon Kylo’s jogging back to the front registers, eager to get home. The cashier, a tired-looking but otherwise pleasant beta, shoots him a small knowing smile, no doubt detecting the scent of needy, pregnant omega clinging to his jacket, as she arranges his purchases into the reusable bag. Kylo’s grateful she doesn’t introduce any unnecessary small talk apart from a quick “thank you, have a nice night” as he snags his groceries and makes his way back to his car.

All he can think about right now is getting home to Hux.

Rainwater slats off his windshield, not looking like it’ll let up anytime soon. Thankfully, he’s not far from home, and before long he’s pulling into their garage and entering inside, relaxing in the change in warmth. He sheds his jacket, hanging it on the little peg on the door, leaving him in only his shirt.

Millicent mews softly, hopping off her customary roost on Hux’s empty armchair and coming to greet Kylo at the door. Though he’s eager to tend to his mate, he takes the time to peel open a fresh can of food and drop it into her bowl, knowing Hux would become upset if he left her to go hungry. He pets her for a moment as she eats, rubbing where the fur fluffs up around her little red collar, before unpacking the groceries and putting the perishables away in the fridge.

Now, with everything else taken care of, Kylo grabs the painkillers and pours the ginger ale in a tall glass of ice and walks to their bedroom, carefully nudging open the slightly-ajar door.

The lights inside are dimmed to the same setting he’d left them in, giving the sick omega less aggravation for his pounding headache. Kylo slips inside, the carpeting cushioning his footsteps as he makes his way over to the bed. He softly calls out his mate’s name as he crouches at his side, moving a nearly empty glass of water from the coaster on the nightstand to replace it with the ginger ale. 

Hux lies on his side, fluffy bedding from all over the house piled high on top of him. His head pokes out of the nest, ginger hair mussed over his pillow as he nuzzles against it. His left hand clutches the blue baby blanket Kylo’s mother had bought for them, that Hux has decided to cover in his own scent rather than leave sitting in the dresser until one of the pups can use it. It’s a sweet little habit that Kylo doesn’t dare draw attention to, for fear that Hux will stop out of embarrassment.

He pets the blanket’s delicate fabric and watches Kylo through sleepy eyes, curious expression falling into disapproval as the alpha raises the bottle of painkillers, shaking it softly. Hux furrows his brow.

“It’s safe. I promise. And you’re only going to take one.” Kylo unscrews the top, jiggling out one little white pill into his hand. He settles on the edge of the bed and forces Hux to sit up, which he manages after no small amount of fussing and wincing. The folds of the bedcovers slid down to reveal the top part of his belly, where his navy sweater stretches out, just barely able to cover the swell.

Hux is in the beginnings of his third trimester and certainly feeling the wear of pregnancy, though neither he nor Kylo expected him to fall ill while carrying their twins. Yesterday, when Hux had first nearly lost his balance while pushing up from the dining table, Kylo had barely been able to stifle his panic long enough to call their doctor. When Hux’s fever and dizziness had only grown worst, he’d been right on the verge of calling an ambulance, and no doubt would have if not for the doctor’s willingness to make a house call. Kylo had paced the entire time, sensing Hux’s worrisome temperature and discomfort through the strength of his bond, and even after the doctor had assured him both mother and pups would be fine with a little rest and proper hydration, he’d still found himself so sick to death that he’d gone home from work early the following day to care for Hux.

Kylo finds sometimes his worry is cyclical, endlessly dragging him back down whenever he thinks he might be able to break free to the surface, and usually it won’t leave him be until he deals with whatever the issue is with his own two hands.

Ultimately, Kylo feels far less tightly wound when he’s close enough to his mate to ensure his wellbeing. Even the trip to the grocery store had left him a little bit frazzled, though now it starts to ebb as he can see Hux is fine, if a little annoyed at having to sit up.

Hux finally takes the pill with a sour frown, accepting the glass of ginger ale when Kylo provides it, though he takes only a small sip to wash the medication down. He sighs, shoulders slumping as he rests back against the pillows behind him. Kylo lifts his arm, brushing his knuckles against Hux’s forehead. The omega’s eyebrows twitch in annoyance, but he doesn’t have the strength nor interest to push Kylo away.

“I feel awful…” Hux whimpers, hand slowly, anxiously stroking his belly. Kylo knows his worry for their pups probably isn’t making him feel much better, so he tries to be encouraging and defuse some of Hux’s less rational worries.

“You’ll feel better after the medication takes effect. And I don’t think your fever’s gotten worse,” Kylo murmurs, pulling away his hand. “Though I can use the thermometer if an exact number might make you feel better.”

Hux shakes his head, knocking more messy strands free over his forehead. The omega would hate him for thinking it, but to Kylo he looks absolutely adorable, even while sick. The urge to wrap him up in a hug is so strong, Kylo can’t help but bow to it, and he leans in and carefully embraces Hux.

He huffs in protest, but otherwise relaxes into Kylo’s arms, resting his chin atop his mate’s shoulder. Kylo gives him a gentle squeeze, mindful of his belly and any lingering nausea, before he pulls away. But instead of rising from the bed he shifts closer to Hux, not eager to keep distance between himself and his sick mate. Even if the omega is contagious, Kylo’s always had a hardier immune system, and even if that weren’t the case, no virus could possibly stop him from comforting his mate. 

“You’re a lot more noble than I’ve pegged you for,” Hux says and his voice, though soft, still carries that edge of acuity Kylo’s familiar with. “Venturing out into the pouring rain, buying and serving whatever your omega requires…a _prince_ , you are.”

“I wouldn’t call it noble,” Kylo mumbles, brushing his fingers through Hux’s bangs, “more like common sense. What kind of alpha leaves their pregnant mate suffering on their own?”

“You’d be surprised. Plenty of lowlives out there…” Despite his malaise, Hux’s lips twitch up, leaning into Kylo’s touch. “Lucky me. I’ve managed to catch me a decent one.”

“Yeah. Hook, line, and sinker there.” Kylo deposits the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand, freeing up one hand so that he can stroke Hux’s belly. Even through the thick, comfortable fabric of his sweater, Kylo can feel the warmth of the omega’s skin, of the pups growing within. He inhales, smelling Hux through the pall of sickness and the daily grime that would’ve usually been washed away by now, if Hux were well. Kylo wonders if he should try to give his mate a shower in the morning—or perhaps a bath, so Hux could lie down and relax.

“There’s one more thing I need, though.” Hux traces his fingers over Kylo’s knuckles, inviting. “I feel you can guess what it is.”

Kylo tilts his head—he wants to get started on the soup, so Hux can have something in his belly other than a scant sip of ginger ale before he falls asleep. Yet the scent of pregnant omega is so alluring, and he figures he deserves to indulge in a little reward, if he really is as noble as Hux says he is.

“I can.” Kylo moves carefully, not wanting to disturb Hux’s nest as he settles in next to him. He lets Hux tuck into his side, wrapping an arm about the omega’s shoulders as he rests his head against his chest. His curved belly rubs against Kylo, skin shifting slightly thanks to the movements of the pups beneath.

Hux, exhausted by his illness and the general toll of pregnancy, quickly falls back asleep, but Kylo remains awake, hand braced against the warmth of his mate’s belly as he listens to the pacifying patter of rain against the roof.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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